


Thoughts of Flight

by TheNaiveMuse



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: F/M, Harpy!AU, Self-Insert, harpy!scream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-05 20:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13395321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNaiveMuse/pseuds/TheNaiveMuse
Summary: It started as most things do: with an encounter.An indulgent self-insert story with a harpy au flavor.





	1. The Encounter

It started as most things do: with an encounter.

 

It was the shriek that caught my attention first.  It was shrill and harsh on my ears, but my curiosity and tender heart brought me to look for the source of the painful noise.  I turned, not bothering to look where my friends had gone ahead of me down the trail, and I headed into the trees.

I tripped on a few roots here and there and just about busted my ass but I made it down the slope, the trail forgotten.  I could only focus on that screeching that, as I drew closer to the source, was accompanied by rustling and thrashing of limbs in the surrounding brush.

I swallowed whatever fear I had developed and I realized the ailing creature was _much_ larger than I first guessed.  I barely caught sight of the silver-grey blur of movement against the dull brown and amber of the woods and I felt my heart skip.  I couldn’t even comprehend what I’d seen, but my gasp must have been loud enough for the thing to hear because all movement and noise-making ceased.

I cowered behind a tree, waiting, hoping that I had the courage to turn around and help the poor thing or to go back up the hill and find the others at the campsite.  After several tense moments, I thought I had my mind made up to just forget what I’d seen and heard and just leave.

But a small rustle followed by a pathetic whine pulled me out from behind my meager shelter to have a second look.

Both the thing and I froze again as I made myself visible and I took in the sight anew.

The silvery feathers that had previously fallen to the ground were picked up in a breeze and fluttered around the form of the bird-like creature caught in a snare on the forest floor.  Long and narrow limbs, partially feathered and partially coated in black scales were tangled in thin cables of some sort of netting, clearly, a large trap meant for something of this size.

I could scarcely breathe as I took in the wings.  Large and sharply-angled feathers rose high from its back, staying clear of the snare.  The tail, though partially hidden by the grey body, was much like the shape of the wings, and the feather shafts were too thin and soft to be tangled in the lines.

My brain could hardly process what I was seeing, but I felt all my instincts telling me to run.  Get away from the thing in front of me.  The dangerous thing with too many limbs.

With a sharp snap, my eyes flicked to its head to see it give a threatening display full of sharp teeth and red eyes with a deep warning hiss.  The display worked and I felt the ground impact my ass as I fell backward and skittered back from the thing.

Despite this, I still couldn’t look away.

It hissed again, the sound piercing into my primal fears of predation.  My heart pounded and my blood pressure dropped as I watched it thrash again in an attempt to free itself.  The sight of blood streaking some of its feathers made me look again at its face.

 _Its face._   It had a _face_.

Not just an animalistic snout or a beak, but a human-like face.

And that face, with eyes wide, mouth downturned, and twitching gaze… looked scared.

I could see its wings shiver as I moved to take off my backpack.  I dug around, ignoring further threats as I searched for something to cut the lines.  My brain was screaming at me that this was too dangerous.  This thing could kill me.

I turned back to it with my knife in hand only to be knocked back by a powerful wing.  Luckily, it didn’t hurt that much, the feathers making contact with my head fairly harmlessly.  Re-thinking strategy, I crouched low, holding up my left hand in a placating gesture.  It didn’t understand and only caused itself further injury in the snare.

Slowly, I reached for the closest line in the snare and snapped it with the serrations of my knife.  The creature froze again and looked at me with an unreadable expression.  Using the opportunity, I cut as many lines as I could, loosening the overall grip on its limbs.  As the lines slacked, it tried once again to free itself but the loops around its limbs were too tight.

At this closer perspective, I could see that part of the lines had embedded themselves into the black flesh of its wrists and feet.  It was in danger of losing blood flow to its limbs.

Pushing the thoughts of bizarre anatomy and extra limbs aside, I brushed its foot gently to see its response.  It watched me intently but made no effort to escape the touch.  As I carefully cut around its talons, I realized I was cooing and assuring it I meant no harm.  It seemed ridiculous, but as I looked at its face again, it seemed… relaxed.

Slowly, the lines were unraveled from its limbs, but instead of bolting off into the woods like I expected, it stayed, watching me suspiciously.  When it finally moved, it winced in pain when putting weight on its injuries.

Moving quickly, I grabbed my bag again and pulled out a small first aid kit.  I have never been a bigger believer in chance than I was in that moment, realizing that out of the three bags we packed, I wound up carrying the one with that kit.

When I looked back I yelped to see the dark form looming over me.  It had crowded over me, I guess to see what I was doing, and put its weight on its wings and knees.  Its hands, yes hands, were free to reach forward, making me slide backward on instinct.  It withdrew slightly, and we both sat watching each other for a moment, taking in the sight of each other.

I glanced down at the first aid kit again and made a scooting motion toward it.  Taking the gauze and some alcohol, I held out my hand, hoping it would understand.  It stared at my hand and the gauze, chirping.  I wiped my own hand to hopefully show what I meant to do and pointed to its injured wrists.

Warily, it held out a clawed hand, looking as if it was prepared to flee.  Gently, I tried to clean the wound.  Thankfully, it wasn’t as deep as I feared.  It hissed again, retracting as the alcohol stung.  Thinking fast, I showed it the blood and dirt on the gauze pad.  It looked to its wound again and, still not fully trusting, held out its arm.

Seeing it up close, I felt lucky that it seemed to understand what I was doing.  Its hands were sleek sable and each of its five slender fingers had a deadly-looking talon for a tip.  The talons were easily longer than two of my knuckles, and as I swapped over to the other hand, I shivered at the sun glinting on the smooth surface.

Wishing I could do more or had better medical knowledge, I applied ointment to both hands and wrapped them tightly in more gauze.  I watched it sniff and lick the bindings, and in a seeming approval, it sat back to present an ankle.  I treated the delicate bird-like feet with as much care as before and once finished, I took another look at the creature sat before me.

The only word I thought in that moment, seeing this creature in full-

“Beautiful.”

The word left my mouth as I felt awe.  The red crest on the head of it stood up straight as it regarded me curiously.

A snapped twig in the distance distracted me for an instant, but in the span of time I turned my head to check we weren’t being watched and looked back to the creature, it had disappeared.

The encounter was over.  The creature: gone.

I packed everything back into my bag and hoisted it onto my shoulders, but before I left, I leaned back over the ruined snare.  The silver sheen of a large feather made me smile.  Taking it with me, I left to find the trail and my friends.

 

\--

I woke in the tent, dreaming of birds and dangerous claws for the third night in a row.  I glanced over at my friend, Ashley, in her sleeping bag beside me.  The dog, her big yellow lab, Abe, was snuggled up to her, dreaming.  Carefully, I rose and left the tent without waking them.

I would gladly have stayed asleep and warm inside the tent, the hikes every day had worn me out, but alas, nature calls.

I wound my way down the dark path to the outhouse provided for the grounds and passed by several dark tents along the way.  I started wishing I’d brought a lamp with me, but it wasn’t that far, and I was sure I remembered the way.

In fact, the walk was rather peaceful.  Screech owls whistled in the distant trees and a chorus of bullfrogs filled the silence in between.  When I reached the pond I whispered a swear.  I’d gone past my goal.

Looking down at the still water, I recalled the snake sightings that we and other campers had shared near the pond and tiptoed my way back, looking for any slithering forms on the ground.

An odd chirp made me look upwards.  Seeing nothing, I stepped forward, but I heard it again.  I thought perhaps I’d disturbed an owl, but no sign of movement could be made out in the trees without the light of even the moon.  I sighed and looked down again.

My blood ran cold as a very obvious snake made itself known with a curved body ready for a strike.  I yelped and backed away just in time for a silver form to swoop down from the trees.

It was the creature from the snare.  I watched as it trapped the snake with its slender-but-powerful legs and then sliced the head off with its clawed hand.  It chucked the head into the pond where it could do no further harm and stood, like a human, as it started slurping down the long body of the snake.  The creature’s sharp teeth became stained with blood as it chomped on the writhing snake, stripping it of flesh as the bird-thing forced it into its gullet.

I locked eyes with the creature and all I could breathe was, “You.”

The bandages were still in place, though frayed, and largely free of blood soaking through which made me smile.

“Thank you,” I sighed.  “I guess we’re even now.”

It seemed to nod before taking off, wings whipping up a gust in its wake.

I finally heard Sarah’s calls from up the path once it was gone.

“I heard you scream,” Sarah panted, running up with a headlamp.

“I just thought I saw a snake,” I replied sheepishly.

As my friend led me back to my original destination, I thought that would be the last time I’d ever see the creature, since we were packing up and leaving in the morning.

 

I never thought I’d be so happy to be wrong.


	2. Somebody's Watching Me

I’d had the feeling of being watched for about a week.  I couldn’t explain it or validate it, so of course, it annoyed the hell out of me.  The feeling only got worse at night, and having a big sliding glass door in the back of my apartment was not helping.  I was just shy of calling a therapist or the police when I went out to put seed in my birdfeeder and heard something skitter away in the trees behind my apartment.

I normally forget about the feeder, but recent events had encouraged me to remember to feed the birds…

I looked around to see what I heard ran off, but while I stood still, the motion-activated floodlight cut off.  Feeling uneasy, I went back inside.

 

The next day, the feeder was empty, many of the seeds coating the ground below.  As I tried to straighten it back, I noticed part of the plastic had been broken.

Damn squirrels.

I refilled it again before heading out to work.

That night, the floodlight came on, startling me while I sat at the dinner table.  Through the glass, I saw movement behind the tree line, setting me on edge.  I scanned the “yard”, small and unenclosed as it was, and noticed the seed had been spilled again.  Just before the light cut back off, I thought I saw two red eyes peering from behind a tree.

Feeling a little bit nuts, I grabbed a piece of meat off my plate and set it on the concrete slab behind the door, waiting inside to see what came to take it.

Almost quicker than the floodlight could detect, a set of jet black talons swooped down after the meat.  I could barely see the glint of silver feathers retreat back into the trees as I came back out with another morsel in hand.

“It’s ok,” I cooed to the trees while holding out the meat in my open palm.  “It’s just me…”

I had little warning before the chittering bird-thing emerged and swiped the offering from my hand, razor-sharp talons nicking my skin.  I hissed and retreated, clutching the stinging hand to my chest.

The red crest shot up straight as it chittered worriedly in my direction.

Odd, how I thought those rapid-fire chirps sounded worried.

In a flash, it grabbed my hand, seemingly inspecting the wound.  It was far more gentle in its inspection than in the swipe, talons avoiding my flesh with seemingly practiced grace.

While it looked at my hand, I noticed the bandages had largely fallen off and unraveled.  My free hand traveled to one of its wrists to remove the bandage to see how the wound had healed.  It seemed to have an idea and pulled away to give me the bandage, squawking as it tried to put the dirtied gauze to my palm.  It looked offended as I declined, but I tried to shush it.  I took hold of its arm to lead it inside, but it crowed and backed away with a hiss.

I apologized and retreated slowly, passing what was left of my meal out the door for it.  When I returned with the first aid kit, it was stooped over the plate, plucking little bits of the food off while it inspected the plate itself.  It lifted the plate up to look at it from underneath and I giggled at the sight.  It flicked its eyes up and recognized the kit, chirping happily as it stood to watch me open it.

I set the kit down on the kitchen table, where I had better light than outside.  The creature looked conflicted, wings flicking periodically before it decided to make the first step into the doorway.  Its claws clicked on the linoleum as it made its way inside, head and eyes flitting around like the little wrens or chickadees out back.  The ripping of the gauze packaging caught its attention again and it came to stand behind me.  Somehow, being inside together made me acutely more aware of its height.  It was stooping, knees bent, and still I only reached its chest.  It put the plate down, empty, and watched me clean the wound.  It clacked at me and put its hand on its chest.  When it saw I didn’t understand, it gently wrapped its talons around my hand holding the gauze and repeated the gesture.

“You want to try?”  I held out the gauze and it chirped happily, glad that I understood.  Slowly and gently, it took hold of the white fluff and dabbed the mostly-clean scratch on my palm, emulating my actions.  I looked over the wound once it finished and as I wrapped my hand, I caught it lifting the blood-stained gauze to its nose for a sniff.

With my own hand taken care of, I tapped at its wrists.  It held out its hands and allowed me to inspect the healing wounds.  They looked clean and free of infection, so I removed what was left of the wrappings from its wrists and feet.  It looked at the wounds and then to the empty plate before scowling.

Abruptly, it turned and huffed at me before rushing out the door and back into the night.

 

The next morning, I had a dead rabbit at my door.

Was it the creature’s doing?

Whatever the motive, I had no time to deal with the carcass before work, so I left it there for the time-being.

 

I heard a familiar squawk at the door that evening, followed by a thump on the glass.  The rabbit was there, but the creature was gone.

“Thank you, but no.”

No sooner had I closed the door than did it try again, this time staying to stare me down.

“I can’t eat this,” I protested.  “You take it.”  As I glanced up and down its slender body again, I remarked quietly, “You could use the meal.”

It didn’t take kindly to this rejection and pushed past me to place the dead animal on my table.  In a fit, I chucked the poor thing out into the woods.  The bird-creature bared its teeth but made a quiet rumble, feathers rustling as it chased the rabbit down.  I closed the door, hoping it was done or would give up soon.

Several minutes later, the door swooshed open and I stood to find it staring straight into my eyes while setting the rabbit on the table again.  It gave an authoritative chak before leaving, closing the door behind it.

 

This became a nightly struggle.  I threw the rabbit carcass in the dumpster eventually, but every night after it would try to bring me some dead animal as an offering.  I was at my wits-end trying to ignore the pounding and hissing at the locked door.  Several times I caught myself hissing back, much to the creature’s surprise.

 

Then, surprisingly, one night: nothing.

I inspected the woods but found no trace of feather or offering.  Thinking this was some new trick, I ignored it and went to bed.

But it remained gone for several days.

 

Then weeks.

 

Most of the trees were bare when it finally returned.  I could hear its weak chatter before I saw it in the floodlight.  I rushed to the door, ready for another fight over a dead animal, but gasped when I saw the feathers over its ribs soaked in blood.  It nearly fell into my arms when the door opened.

Quickly, I got it to sit in a chair while I gathered the kit.  Lifting the feathers on its side, I could see deep slashes in the grey flesh.  While I applied pressure to stave off the bleeding, I noticed several more bloody patches across its body and dark purple bruises on its face.

“Who did this to you?”

I panicked, wondering if I was somehow responsible for this in turning it away for so long.

It tried to respond, feebly rumbling in its usual bird chitters before slumping and going completely slack.

 

I did my best to treat its wounds, cleaning and wrapping what I could.  I even stitched the deepest with a sanitized curved embroidery needle.  It was still unconscious when I was through, and I didn’t want it to stay in the wooden chair all night.

Looping my arms under its own, I lifted, finding it surprisingly lightweight for its size.  Then again, it is a bird.  Or at least something like it.

I tucked its wings gently underneath it to lay it on the couch, its body a bit too long.  Its feet dangled over the edge a bit, but at least it was probably more comfortable than the chair.  Its flesh had been cold to the touch, and I feared it lost a lot of blood.  I tucked it into a plush blanket, hoping that it would warm up on its own.

I didn’t sleep much that night, propped up against the couch as I sat on the floor.

Somehow, of course, it chose the one time I was deep in a dream to squawk and thrash as it woke under the blanket.  I tried to restrain it to keep it from tangling in the blanket that now sported a few new holes, but it only calmed once it made eye-contact.  As it saw my face, it seemed to remember the journey to my door, and I felt the muscles in its arms relax.

I sighed as it stopped fighting and peeled back the blanket to be sure it hadn’t opened its wounds.  When I found no new blood, I helped it up into a sitting position.  It rolled its shoulders and stretched its wings, no doubt feeling sore and stiff.  The long feathers clung to the soft fabric of the couch, and I imagined its tail was behaving much the same.  I watched it scan the room, taking in the new sights of the bookshelf and sewing desk before turning and staring at the door.

I thought I caught a glimpse of sorrow as it pondered the familiar glass door, but it quickly turned back to me, watching me closely.  Unsure of what to do, I rose to sit beside it, careful not to crush feathers in the process.  It shuddered and brushed its talons along some of its wounds.

“I’m sure it hurts.”  I touched its hand and seemed to catch it off guard.  It snapped its head around and I felt it tense as it twitched, gaze traveling back and forth between our hands and me.  Tilting its head, it placed its other hand atop mine, making me giggle.  We pulled apart and it gazed across the room again, wings twitching awkwardly.

Then it spotted the mirror.

Its feathers fluffed in a threat as it hissed quietly into the mirror hanging on the wall.  I suspected it was seeing its reflection as a potential threat, but once it rose to confront the mirror, I was afraid it would shatter it.  Jumping up, I cooed and restrained it gently as I tried to show it that the reflection was of itself.  I watched its gaze in the reflection focus on my own and it looked to me again.

“See?  Just a reflection.”  I touched the glass and encouraged it to do the same.  Its hand touched the glass and it chirred in recognition.  It looked at itself in the mirror, inspecting its injuries.  It winced when it touched the bruises on its face.  It shoulders sagged in a melancholy pout.  I left its side to fetch an icepack from the freezer to reduce the pain and swelling and when I came back, it was picking at one of the stitches on its side.

“No!”  I rushed to grab its hands and stop it from hurting itself.  It shrieked at me and resisted, panicking.  After a few items were knocked off shelves, I pulled away to think of how to communicate.  Thankfully, it seemed to wait for the explanation.

Taking a piece of scrap fabric from the sewing table, I held it up, then pointed to the stitches on its ribs.  I ripped the fabric, making it cringe, but it nodded.  I grabbed a needle and thread and mended the rip quickly and passed the scrap to it.

Its eyes widened and it plucked one of the stitches and it watched as the rip widened again.

“So no picking,” I warned.  Taking up the cold pack again, I gently pressed it to one cheek.  It rumbled in displeasure but did not resist.

Being this close to those teeth was nerve-wracking, but as I pressed the pack to its cheek, my fingertips brushed the downy feathers of its face.  At once I was mesmerized by the softness and before I could stop myself, I was caressing its other cheek with my free hand.  The center of its face was smooth skin that blended almost seamlessly into the down.

It cooed in its throat and I realized what I was doing.  I tried to pull back, afraid it might bite, but instead, it followed the touch.  It blinked slowly, seeming to enjoy this attention, so I allowed myself a little bravery and continued to explore with my hand.  As I felt between the feathers of its jawline I gave it a light scratch and it chirred happily.  My hand made its way all the way down to the base of its wing and it jerked and jumped backward with a quick beat of its wings.

We stood staring at each other for several tense moments before it touched its cheek, rubbing the cold flesh.  Regaining composure, I cleared my throat and tried to indicate if it wanted food.  It nodded and followed me to the kitchen, appearing nervous.

“Can you speak?”  I watched as it inspected me curiously, but it didn’t acknowledge my question.  “I guess not…  Here.”  I handed it a piece of meat from the fridge and it ate happily, ripping the morsel into pieces with its talons and teeth.  I made myself a bowl of cereal and sat down on the couch to eat.

It followed me and watched curiously as I ate.  Its head bobbed as it followed my spoon, making me laugh.  I turned and, crazily, offered it a bite from the spoon.  I could hear and feel its teeth scrape the metal as it bit, making me cringe.  It cringed as well and spat out the milk and cereal all over the couch and my lap.

I sighed as I went back to the kitchen to get a towel.  As I cleaned the mess, I wondered just what I had gotten myself into by letting this wild animal into my house.


	3. Mimicry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading and leaving kudos. It really means a lot since I didn't expect anyone to really like this story since it was so personal.
> 
> That being said, I have good news! I decided while writing this chapter (and the next) that I would not pressure myself to regulate the length of these chapters as I do with my other work. Therefore: you, the reader, will enjoy more frequent updates on this fic.  
> This story is not as serious or long as my other work and I don't want to spoil the fun of writing this by imposing unnecessary pressures or goals on myself.
> 
> Thank you all for understanding and expect more frequent updates, as I said.

I’d always wanted a pet bird.

                _Foolish._

 

This creature would be the death of me.  Every little thing about my life, human life, was new to it.  I was constantly pulling things out of its claws or mouth.  My shelves were wrecked by careless wings knocking the items that used to be on them about.

I was at my wit's end by nightfall.  My home was a mess and the creature was chewing on a book cover when it accidentally dropped it and as the book hit the floor, the pages opened to a picture of a hawk.  I caught the beast marveling at the picture and chirring at it as I came back into the room from cleaning a mess.  The book was a bird guide I’d picked up when I started bird watching in college.  I smiled at the fond memories as well as this new fascination.

It startled when I placed a hand on its back, but it allowed me to pick up the book.

“You like the pictures of birds?”

It chirped but did not answer.

Smiling, I showed it more of the illustrations.  As its large red eyes scanned the pages, it seemed to enjoy the pictures, especially those of birds in flight, and it chirped loudly at the sight of species native to the forest in which I found it.

I left it to flip through the book on its own as I sat down to turn on the tv.

Its feathers ruffled at the sound, but it held the book as it sat on the floor, facing the screen.  It tilted its head back and forth and rocked slightly as it listened to the human speech.

“You hear them talking,” I stated with a smile.

It faced me, appearing much smaller in its crouched position.  It made no sound but I could see some form of thought churning through its mind.  Whatever it was, it turned around and left me alone as it glanced down to its wings and started preening them with its hands and mouth.

Satisfied that it would be occupied for a while, I took up my sketchbook.  It had been a while since I’d drawn anything, but rarely did I have such an intriguing subject in front of me.

I sketched its eyes first, so wild and intelligent.  Then came its lean body and thin talons before I attempted the large wings.

I had nearly finished when it approached me and wanted to see what I was doing.  When I guarded myself out of reflex, it plucked the pencil from my hand, inspecting it with its mouth.  When it saw that I still had something in my hands, it dropped the pencil and leaned over to look.

Stubbornly, I clutched the book to my chest, which led to the creature climbing on top on my couch and then on top of me before it pinned me to the cushions and bit the top of the sketchbook and yanked it from me.

It was shockingly strong, easily keeping me still with one arm as it held up the book with its free hand.  It stared at the sketch and then looked back to me.  It rumbled in its chest as it allowed me to sit up as it placed a hand on its chest.

Blushing and feeling embarrassed, I frowned and looked away.  It squawked and tilted its head, tapping its chest again.  It looked like it was waiting for me to respond.

“What?”

It tapped the drawing and then its chest.

“…Yes, that’s you.”  I nodded, hoping that was its question.

It puffed up as its eyes widened, staring at the image of itself with pride.  It made me laugh to see it so happy and it leaned over me again, instantly quieting my laughter with its intimidating stare.

I took several shallow breaths as I watched its face move closer, bridging the gap between us slowly.  I went stiff as it pushed its nose into the side of my neck.  It nuzzled me for several tense moments before it felt my hair fall on its face.  It reeled back, but in its bold curiosity, it dropped the sketchbook and ran its talons through my long hair, inspecting it.

I imagined it had never experienced human hair like this, and it felt like it was reciprocating the touches I’d given it before when I felt its feathers.  Despite the gentle touch, I still feared its claws and I grabbed its hand and stroked its scales, feeling the smooth texture with a smile.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Thank you.”

I froze for a moment and looked back at its face.

“Thank you,” it repeated, using my voice.

I tried not to scream, but it sensed my distress and backed away, hunched over and hiding behind a wing.

“You…  You can talk.”

It flinched and took another step back.

“I…  Sorry.”  I bit back another scream and took a deep breath before patting the couch cushion next to me.  “Come sit.  It’s ok, I’m not mad.”

It took a few moments to coax it over but eventually, it stepped back over and crouched on the floor to look up at me.  It was still fearful.  I stretched out a hand and it flinched and looked away.

After a quiet moment, I placed a hand on my chest and spoke my name, “Caitlin.”

It watched as I repeated the name before it glanced at me and repeated it back to me.  I couldn’t help the little squeal of delight at this new development and its crest flared in surprise, still fearful of my response.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”  I calmed myself down and pointed at my chest again.  When it repeated my name, I noticed its voice sounded deeper and less like mine.  It could speak.  It could mimic, but it appeared to understand what was said.  My mind raced with this new development and its implications, but its light touch on my knee snapped me back into the moment.

It placed a hand on its chest and screeched something.  Seeing my look of confusion, it repeated.

The sound was two syllables, sounding almost like a word.  It repeated again, appearing frustrated that I did not respond.

“S’ka-skree?”  I approximated the sound as best I could, which seemed to be what it wanted.

It pointed to me and said my name, and then pointed to itself and repeated the screech.

“Is that your name?”  It waited to hear me say it again, and when I did, it corrected me, coaching me in mimicry of the sound that I presumed was its name.  Once it was satisfied, it chirped and fluffed its feathers happily.

“That’s really hard to say for a human.”  I lost myself in thought again as I contemplated it having possibly its own language.  This implied it was not only intelligent but that there were others.  _Others that it could communicate with._

It grabbed my attention with my name again and it smiled when I looked at it in response.

 

As it practiced my name, it seemed to come into its own voice, sounding less and less like it was mimicking my voice with each use.  It was disappointed that I couldn’t mimic its own name with such success.  Before I turned in for the night, I glanced and caught a glimpse of it in the blue light of the tv screen and the sheen of its feathers seemed to sparkle in places, the dark expanse looking almost like a cloak of night speckled with stars.

“Starscream,” I murmured, largely to myself.  It glanced at me, surprising me.  “You like that name?”  It tilted its head.  “Starscream,” I repeated, pointing at it.  With its feathers looking like starlight, it chirred.  With a nod, it accepted my approximation of its name.

I rose to go to bed and set out a few blankets, hoping it would sleep somehow.  It was still inspecting and feeling the plush blankets as I ascended the stairs.

“Good night, Starscream.”


End file.
